Unexpected Sparks
by citigirl13
Summary: When Clarke and Bellamy first meet they hate each other. But as much as they hate to admit it there are sparks there, and neither of them can deny it. And when Clarke finds out a shocking secret, it only serves to bring them closer together. College AU.
1. Chapter One

**AN: Don't even ASK me where this story came from. I read another fanfic (Once Upon a Time, Hook and Emma, **_**The Switch**_**, check it out if you like the couple**_**) **_**and it gave me the idea for this. What was meant to be a short scene became a much longer and developed story. **

**I am really proud of it. Right now it is a one-shot, but there is definitely an opportunity to develop it a bit more. To be honest it's unlikely that I will continue this because I usually don't have enough time to continue multi-chapter stories but...who knows? Perhaps if you like it you should put it on story alert, just in case. Again I stress that I am REALLY busy and you shouldn't expect an update or even a continuation, but I really enjoyed writing this. I'm not one to say "never".**

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**DISCLAIMER:**** I do NOT own **_**The 100 **_**or any of the characters; I also do not own any of the quotes**

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**Unexpected Sparks**

* * *

"_Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks" – _Samuel Johnson

* * *

_Shit_. She was so late.

Being a freshman at college is never easy. You go through the emotional stress of being away from home, from your friends and family and all the things that are familiar; and you also go through the stress of dealing with the colossal workload, of finding your way around and dealing with your new flatmates.

Clarke was handling most of it. It was the huge amount of studying that was causing the problem.

Thing is, she had been smug before coming to college. Since she had assisted her mother in her medical practice, she had thought that she would be streets ahead of the other students. And sure, when they would eventually come to start working in the hospitals on actual people, she would be very good. But right now they were still in the classrooms and, despite her best efforts, she found herself struggling. She was sure that if she had more time she would be fine; but already the huge amount of work was getting to her. She already had a case study to turn in and a group presentation as well as an essay on the medical system – and it was only the second week.

This was why she was now running late to her nine o'clock lecture. She cursed herself for staying up so late, but she had wanted to finish another book before she went to bed. Now she had slept through her alarm and woken up ten minutes ago, at the time when the class was meant to start.

Clarke was a perfectionist, and the thought of missing one lecture before the second week ended sent her in a spin. This was why Clarke was dashing across campus, one hand trying to stuff all her books into her bag (which she had belatedly realised was too small for all her things) while trying to finish a piece of toast and balance a steaming cup of coffee in the other hand. Thankfully her dorm wasn't too far from where the class was being held, and she had a few hours break so afterwards she would be able to go back to and catch a couple hours rest before her next class –

_BANG. _Clarke had been so busy trying to gather herself together that she hadn't been looking where she was going, and had slammed into someone else. It was the catalyst that tipped a flustered girl over the edge: all her books flew out of her bag and on the floor, her last piece of toast was crushed in her hand and her coffee splashed over onto the person that she rammed into. But at least they remained standing. She fell to the floor, landing hard on her bottom.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly blinked them back. "Shit," she swore to cover it. But that was nothing to the person she had walked into.

"Fuck!" He said it loudly, blocking out her words. He backed away from her as if he had been burned. Clarke felt a little insulted until she noticed the dark wet patch in the centre of his shirt and realised that her coffee had gone on him. His books had also fallen on the floor. His head shot up, glowering at her. "Think you could watch where you're going?"

Expecting sympathy, Clarke was taken back. But she forced herself to stand up. "I'm sorry," she said, but her tone didn't make it sound like she was sorry at all.

"Yeah, y'think?" He pulled his top away from his skin, wincing. "Jeez."

Clarke felt her eyes narrow at him. "I _said _I was sorry. It's just coffee."

"Really hot coffee."

"Aw, poor baby," she mocked. She saw his head jerk up at her when she said it, fully focussing on her. It was then she could see his face. He looked like a grown-up version of Dennis the Menace with dark, messy hair and freckles over his face. Yet unlike Dennis the Menace he was actually attractive. Well he would have been if he hadn't been glowering at her.

They maintained eye-contact for a moment, challenging each other. For a second she could feel the argument between them brewing, the air clicking with electricity. Then Clarke remembered that she was actually late for her lecture and, with a last glare, bent down to pick up her books.

She assumed he would storm off, but out the corner of her eye she saw him bend down and remembered that he too had dropped his books.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologised, but like herself he didn't sound sorry. "But I didn't sleep well last night and I have a meeting with my supervisor at ten. In case you don't know, I would like not to look like I just rolled out of bed and didn't even check that my shirt was clean."

She snorted.

He seemed to take offence by this because he said, "Well I can see how it looks on you and it's not impressive."

She lifted her head to him. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm a med student. Now I don't know what modelling degree you take, but I have to work hard. Sometimes that means I have to be up all night." She picked up one of his books by mistake – and instead of giving it to him she shoved it into his chest.

He took it and did the same thing with one of her books. "You have no idea about my life, _princess_."

"And you don't have any idea about mine, _your highness_," Clarke shot back, shoving another back at him.

This was beginning to get rather painful.

"Forgive me if I don't stick around to find out." By this point it was almost a snarl. He stood up and stormed off without glancing back at her.

Clarke felt her whole body relax the second he had gone. She gathered up the remainder of her books and glanced round, making sure that apart from her cup of coffee and last bit of toast there was nothing left on the ground. Thankfully because it was so early her argument seemed to have gone unnoticed. It was so early that unless you had a class, the majority of the student populace would still be in bed.

That reminded Clarke of where she needed to be and once again she took off to her lecture. By this point she was a good twenty minutes late and her lecturer glowered at her as she entered the room. Determined not to let the morning ruin the rest of the day, Clarke forced herself to pay attention. Surprisingly the argument had left her feeling energised and she made notes quickly and efficiently.

Still she flagged by the time the lecture finished and she returned to her dorm room. Her flatmate was still asleep since she'd had a late night too, evidenced by the empty bottles in the kitchen. Ignoring them Clarke walked through to her bedroom and closed the door. It was still bare and yet to feel like home, but her bed was comfortable and covered with a bedspread that her grandmother had made her back when she was a baby. She gathered the covers over her and reached into her bag, pulling out books. The medical journals came out and she tossed them to the side, looking for something else.

Half a minute later she was on her knees, digging right into her bag. She emptied it completely: old chocolate wrappers, crumpled up receipts and old pens fell out – but not her journal. Clarke threw the empty bag across the room, pushing her hair back with her hand. "Damn it!"

He had taken it. With their shoving books at each other he must have grabbed it by mistake – or maybe he had done it on purpose. She reviewed it in her head and knew that she hadn't left it on the ground. The rectangular brown book with the soft cover would be impossible to miss.

She threw herself on the bed, wrapping the covers round her while she mentally tore apart the boy. She could comfort herself with the fact that at least her journal wouldn't reveal any huge secrets, at least not ones that she expected him to understand. Unlike many people Clarke didn't write her journal; no, she _drew_ all her feelings.

Ever since she was little she had loved to draw. Her father had kept all her pictures she did when she was little, assuring her that when she became famous they would be worth a fortune. By the time she hit her teenage years she moved onto paints, pastels, sculpting and other forms – though her favourite was using ink pens. Clarke rarely made a mistake when she was drawing, because not only was she often alone when she worked, but when she drew she focussed on it completely. Her art teacher had encouraged her to keep it up and go to an art college. "Drawing and painting pictures won't pay the bills," her mother declared, and Clarke agreed. She enjoyed working for her mother so it wasn't a hardship. And if creating greats works of art was a job then she might not love it like she did now.

So she poured all her creativity into her journal. She drew when she was feeling overwhelmed, when she needed to get out her emotions. She thought of all the pictures in the book, one of her father with her sitting on his knee, drawn from an old photograph and fragmented memory. And there was a picture of when she first met Finn, and quite a few after that were all cheesy, sickly pictures of him that absolutely screamed of teenage love. Clarke's stomach twisted, thinking of that dick flicking through the pictures. She threw the covers over her head. Could today get any worse?

* * *

Apparently so.

"I look ridiculous."

"You look _hot_," Octavia corrected. The girl peered into the mirror, adding other layer of lip gloss. "Seriously Clarke, you need to wear dresses more often."

"I don't have any dresses. That's why I'm borrowing yours." She sat down, adjusting one of Octavia's olive green high heels. "And I'm likely to sprain my ankle in these."

"Not before you make out with the hottest guy there." Octavia finally tore herself from the mirror and grabbed her little bag, putting it securely over her shoulder. "Every girl at the bar is going to want to kill you."

Clarke knew what Octavia meant. Her normally curly hair had been tamed by hair straighteners and now hung sleekly down past her shoulders. Her legs have been shaved until there wasn't a hair left. And she was wearing a short green dress that barely went past her ass, curtsey of Octavia. To any guy looking to have a good time, she would be the answer to their prayers. If she was honest though, all Clarke was thinking about was having a few drinks and heading back to bed. She had barely gotten any work done today and, while Octavia was right when she said that the girl needed a break, Clarke already wanted to get back to work.

"If left to yourself, you would spend all your time at college in the library." Octavia tugged Clarke down the stairs and out the door of their block. The cool air nipped at Clarke's bare legs and she was already glad that the bar they were going to was on campus, just across the quad. Octavia was already talking about meeting a few of the girls on her course and going to the clubs later, but Clarke was convinced she wouldn't make it half a mile in these heels. "You need to have some fun Clarke. Remember fun?"

"Vaguely. I think the last time we were together was when I was twelve. I met up with it briefly last year, but we didn't exchange more than a hello."

Octavia let out a laugh as she pushed the door open to the bar. It was cheap so the students flocked to it. The college probably hoped that the students would embarrass themselves on the campus rather than the city. The girls were early so the bar wasn't too crowded, allowing them to speak without having to shout.

Octavia got the drinks and Clarke sipped hers, though the alcohol tasted vile in her mouth. Octavia rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you aren't going to be one of these doctors that never has a drink because they think that it'll kill them?"

"No. I'll be the one that turns up drunk to surgery." Octavia laughed at this but she glanced over her shoulder. "Looking for someone?"

Her flatmate turned to her and smiled, reluctant but gleefully. "His name's Lincoln. We met a few nights ago." She gripped her friend's arm. "I think he's the one I want to lose my virginity to Clarke."

"Haven't you only just met him? Give it a few weeks at least-"

"C'mon," said Octavia, tossing her head back. "I'm probably the only person who hasn't lost her virginity yet."

"Hardly-"

"And I might as well do it with someone I like. Besides, I need to try and do it as soon as I can." She let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging. "If my brother found out that I was planning to have sex he would probably force me into a chastity belt."

"Ah," said Clarke with a smile. "The infamous older brother." Octavia had regaled tales about Bellamy, her protective big brother, to Clarke when they first met.

"I'm telling you, he rigged it so I would go to the same college as him just so he could keep an eye on me." Octavia looked round the room again. "He'll be here y'know. I made the mistake of telling him that I was going out, so he's bound to come check on me. And when he does, you'll need to distract him."

Clarke held up her hands. "I know, I know, I'll talk to him. But if he's as protective as you say then I doubt it'll give you more than five minutes."

"Not protective – obsessive. And I can try. But you've got to promise me that you won't fall for him."

Clarke almost spat out her drink. "Why would I fall for him?"

"Because, for some bizarre reason, girls like him. Don't ask me why. Perhaps it's because they don't know he's still obsessed with comic books or that he's the most stubborn person alive."

"Aside from you, you mean?"

The past hour the two of them had a good time. Octavia flirted with other guys but her eyes strayed over to Lincoln. Clarke had to admit Octavia had good taste: Lincoln was not only cute, with gorgeous tanned skin, but he seemed sweet and soft spoken. Perhaps he would be a decent guy. Clarke herself had guys chatting her up, but it was too soon for her to start thinking about getting together with someone else. Still, it did her ego good.

She was leaning against the bar, watching Octavia talk to another guy ("I can't seem too eager on Lincoln can I? I need to play hard to get") when she saw someone pull Octavia away. She watched her friend yell as a boy pulled her away. Clarke pushed herself off the bar and gave chase. As she got closer, she could hear the two of them arguing.

"You have no right-"

"I have every right – all these guys are only after one thing-"

"I'm not an idiot – but who says I'm not after that one thing too?"

"Hey!" Clarke broke in when she heard the boy's sharp intake of breath. "Are you okay?" The boy's back was to her which enabled her to shoot a look at Octavia. The girl returned exasperated glance back.

"We're fine," the boy said without looking back at Clarke.

Clarke felt a stab of annoyance in her chest. "I'm not likely to take your word for it."

"You should – I'm her brother." The boy turned when he said this and the two of them looked at each other for the first time.

Or rather, the _second _time.

Clarke reeled her head back. "_You_," she gasped.

He half-turned his body. "Ah, the princess," he mocked. "Almost didn't recognise you without that rat nest's on your head."

"Well I almost didn't recognise you without a drink on your shirt." Before she could think about it she tossed the remainder of her drink over his blue shirt. "Oh, there you are."

He took a step back. This time the drink had gotten on his face and he blinked, wiping his eyes. "What is your problem?"

"You're my problem," snapped Clarke.

Octavia was looking back and forth between the two of them. "You two know each other?"

"Unfortunately," she said.

"How do you know her?" he asked, addressing Octavia.

"This is my flatmate Clarke. Clarke, this is Bellamy, my brother." Octavia glanced at her brother and then back at Clarke. "You didn't sleep with him did you?"

"No!" Clarke and Bellamy cried in unison.

"I accidently knocked into your brother this morning and he was a complete ass."

"You poured hot coffee over me! Couldn't have watched where you were going?"

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

The two of them glowered at each other.

Octavia beamed at Clarke. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

* * *

Okay, it was time to leave. Clarke had allowed Octavia convince her to have another drink, but she was in a bad mood after her run-in with Bellamy. Octavia was right, he was a pain in the neck. Usually she could control herself when other people annoyed her, but Bellamy had an incredible ability to get under her skin. He seemed to have a talent for it as Octavia got pissed off with him too. He kept on trying to stop guys from hovering round her, which drove his sister mad. Finally one of the Octavia's friends from home Jasper showed up, and Bellamy seemed content to leave her with him. He took to hanging out with a few friends, shooting glances at his sister.

Now was her chance. Octavia was busy with a few friends and Clarke sent her a quick text, letting her know she was taking off. If she told her in person Octavia would make her stay and Clarke was tired. Her feet were aching, every time the door opened she was cold, and she didn't want to be in the same room as Bellamy Blake for another minute.

She had planned to sneak away without being seen, but as she finished her drink she felt someone come up behind her. She turned round and, once again, came face to face with her least favourite person in the college. She would say the world, but, well, there were some other people who she hated more, though when she looked at Bellamy it was hard to remember.

"I have your book," he said without preamble.

Clarke stared at him before she realised: her journal. "Thank God," she breathed. She forgot herself and Bellamy stared at her. "Thief."

"You were the one who shoved it in my face," he shot back. "Do you want it back or not?"

"Firstly it's not yours. Secondly – give it here."

He looked at her like he was stupid. "I don't have it _here_. I wasn't to know that I would ever see you again. It's at my flat. You can come and get it."

"I have to go back to yours?" Clarke remembered what she was wearing and remembered that she'd had a few. She wondered if he was after something more.

He rolled his eyes. "Well what do you expect?"

"You couldn't bring it to mine?"

"I could, but I might not bring it back immediately." He shrugged. "It's your call princess."

She glared at him.

He let out a sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" She listened and it sounded like this time he actually meant it. "My supervisor is also the head of the department and she gave us all a lecture about how this is our final year and we need to focus on our studies. I wanted to make a good impression and you spilling coffee on me – well, it didn't give me the start I wanted. I took it out on you and I'm sorry. But your my sister's flatmate and I'm gonna be hanging around, so it's probably best if we can just get on. Okay?"

Clarke studied him. He seemed sincere and, well, his big brown eyes were soft. And he happened to be right. She didn't want to snap at him every time he came to visit Octavia.

"I won't be a spy for you," she said finally.

He let out a chuckle and gave a half-hearted smile. It was the first smile she had seen on his face and it made him look better – more human. "No worries. The cameras in your room work well enough."

"Ha ha," she muttered. "Fine, let's go. My feet are killing me."

It had officially moved from cool to cold and Clarke tried to walk faster to Bellamy's. She almost tripped and he had to grab her and pull her up. She exchanged a look with Bellamy, who seemed just as surprised as her that he had caught her. "Thanks."

"You're pretty clumsy aren't you?"

"Not usually. The first time I was late and now I'm in heels."

"Octavia's," he said, glancing down at her shoes.

Clarke's mouth twisted as she glanced at him. "Why are you so protective of her?"

"She's my little sister," he explained, as if it wasn't obvious.

"And I get that, but she has a life to live. You hold onto her too tight and she's going to push you away."

Bellamy let out a little groan. He ran his hands through his hair and Clarke could see his frustration. "I know," he said finally. "But she's young and impulsive."

"You two have that in common," she said.

He looked at her from under his hair. "Did Octavia tell you about our family?" Clarke paused before she shook her head. "My dad died when I was little. My mom got so depressed and drunk that she slept with some guy at work and got pregnant again. That was how Octavia was born.

"We did alright for ourselves, y'know. My mom ran a cafe and Octavia practically grew up there. I worked there in my spare time. Sometimes it was a pain, but it was home – much more than the apartment we had. I always said to my mom that we should take the room upstairs and live up there. After we closed we would always have dinner there together.

"Sometimes I want to kick myself because I didn't appreciate it. Like half the time I wanted to go out with my friends, and I didn't want to be stuck with my kid sister and my mom. I look back now and I think about how much I used to laugh with them, how easy it was to be around with them."

Clarke didn't speak. She could sense by his tone that his story didn't have a happy ending. She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps, not just from the cold.

"Two years ago we were picking up my uncle from the airport. Octavia and I were fighting. I don't even remember what it was about. My mom turned round to yell at us. She took her eyes off the road and ran a red light. We crashed.

"Octavia wasn't hurt too badly. Some bad cuts and muscle bruising, but she was alright. Mom and I were on the side where the other car hit. I injured my shoulder pretty badly and was unconscious for three days. When I woke up-" His voice broke. Clarke stared straight ahead. She didn't want to see his face. "When I woke up," he repeated, his voice clearer, "my mom was gone."

Clarke closed her eyes.

"Ever since then it's just been me and Octavia. We're not as close as we used to be. My uncle looked after us, but he couldn't stop us from getting depressed. I was...I was a nightmare. I was pretty much the guy that you saw this morning, only worse.

"Octavia and I almost lost each other. We both felt guilty about what happened to our mom, and to make ourselves feel better we blamed each other. We fell apart. But I finally got my act together and started looking after her – and soon she responded. I skipped college a few years to make sure she was okay and save up some money to keep us afloat and so we could go to college. Turns out my mom had saved some money too, a college fund for the both of us. That helped a lot.

"We're still not at our best. Our relationship is pretty unstable. She hates the fact I keep tabs on her all the time and protect her from guys. But I'm terrified of letting her get hurt. She's the only family I have left."

They had reached the flat and Bellamy began fiddling with his keys. "Why did you just tell me that?" she asked. "I know I'm flatmates with your sister, but we barely know each other."

Bellamy lifted his shoulder up and turned his eyes on her. "Maybe that's the point," he said. Unlocking the door he gestured inside. Clarke followed him up the stairs.

His flat didn't look like a student apartment. For one thing it was clean, without the usual telltale signs of pizza boxes and old socks on the floor. The kitchen and living room were tiny, more or less one room. But it was nice. The sofa was in good condition and the kitchen was spotless.

"This place is great," she said, glancing round.

Bellamy allowed himself a smile. "Yeah. You should have seen it before I got it – it was a hole in the wall." He gestured to the living room. "I'll get your book. You can have a seat and rest your feet." He smirked and took off. Clarke sat down on the sofa and took off her shoes. Her ears were ringing a little bit from the music and she was thirsty, but it was the first time all day she felt calm. She knew she should have been racing back to get some sleep so she could have an early start in the morning, but it was hard to think about it now. She was so comfortable now that she had gotten away from the cold that she could fall asleep right on the couch.

She thought of what Bellamy had said. She had a newfound respect for him: he had worked to get where he was and looked after his sister. She would never have believed that of him when she first met him this morning.

She went to slip her shoes back on (she was getting way too comfortable in another person's house) and knocked the coffee table. A few books fell off the table. Hastily she put them back. Underneath the books there was a bit of paper.

As Clarke picked it up she glanced at it. On the other side there was – for want of a better word – a front cover. There was a drawing of a superhero, one that Clarke had never seen. His clothes were normal, jeans and a scruffy jacket, hands in pockets. But on the front of his shirt was a large A. And on the top of the paper it said, _Atomic Boy_. The artwork was pretty decent. He had to have worked on it for a long time, because it took some skill to get to that level. The boy looked like he was about to jump off the page.

"What you looking at?" said Bellamy.

She almost leapt out of his skin. "Sorry," she said quickly as he sat beside her. "I wasn't snooping or anything, it fell off the table." She was almost tripping over her words and quickly covered her embarrassment by saying, "It's really good. Seriously."

He shrugged but he looked pleased. "Just something I do in my spare time. I loved comic books when I was little. I wanted to be a superhero."

"I wanted to be an artist." As soon as she said the words she felt her face flush. Where the hell had that come from?

"What changed?"

She shrugged. "The same thing that changes for every kid. You realise that there are some things you can't do. Being a doctor makes more sense anyway."

To her surprise he was frowning. "But you _can_ be an artist."

"Only one in a thousand people in the world get further than putting up flyers."

"And you could be one of those people." He gave her a nudge. "Life is too short to do something you don't want to do. Or rather too long."

He was next to her and Clarke was suddenly very aware of how close he was. His sleeves were rolled up and she could almost feel the heat from his skin. She found herself looking at his face, his lips. She realised what she was doing and turned away, her face going red. When she looked back she could see that he was looking at her too. Their eyes met. Clarke could feel herself falling deep into them, sinking away.

They kissed. Clarke wasn't sure whether it was her or him or whether they had both just collided together. It didn't seem to matter. Kissing Bellamy was the first time that she was completely focussed on something else all day – she forgot about her exhaustion and her work and even the stress from home that followed her here. Kissing Bellamy made everything go away. Who could blame her for not pulling back?

* * *

Somehow they were on the bed.

Clarke wasn't even sure how that had happened. All she could remember was clinging onto Bellamy's shirt for dear life. She loved the warmth from his body, the way his body felt against hers. There was a poem about that, one by E. , but she couldn't remember how it went.

_Why the fuck are you thinking about a poem right now? _a voice screamed in her head. _You are on a bed kissing the life out of a boy._

It hit her then: she was on his bed. His hands were on the sides of her dress. She was on top of him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. His lips were soft against hers.

She wasn't ready for this.

She broke away this time. "I can't," she said. She pushed herself off the bed. Bellamy sat up, wiping his mouth at the back of his hand.

"Clarke-"

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said. "This was kinda fast – even for me. I mean we hated each other two hours ago and now we're making out on my bed."

"It's not that – well it is, but-" Clarke choked out a bitter laugh. She sank back on the bed but kept her distance this. "Okay, I guess if we're sharing stories then it's my turn. About a year ago, I started dating this guy. His name was Finn.

"I was head over heels with him. He had longish hair like a rock star and this whole bad boy image and I totally fell for him. He was nice too. We worked in a group and stuck up for my ideas. We grew close and one night he was having a meltdown about something – I can't even remember what it was about – and we kissed. Before I knew what we were doing we had sex on the floor in his parent's study.

"For a few weeks I was happy. Like really, blissfully happy. I was looking for him the hall at school, laughing at dumb jokes, drawing hearts in my notebook. And Finn was sweet: he left me flowers on my desk, made little paper animals for me, passing me cheesy notes during class. We saw movies and went to dinner and did all kinds of tacky stuff. And we had sex too. I wasn't even subtle about it in school. So you can imagine how stupid I felt when his girlfriend came back."

She could still see it: how she strode up to Finn while they were talking in his front garden, put her arms round him and kissed him. Her name was Raven, and in the first minute of their meeting Clarke found out that Raven had been away for a few weeks because of work and that she had missed her boyfriend so badly, and even though they had web-chatted every night it wasn't the same.

"In that minute I felt that new world crumble round me. Finn tried to talk me round: how he had thought that she was going to stay in New York and that they would break up. Funny, how he never did; or how he never once mentioned her to me. He just kept lying.

"After that I focussed on getting into college, because that was the only way I was going to get away from Finn. He kept bothering me but I made it clear nothing was going to happen.

"I felt so foolish. And the worst thing was I had lost my virginity to a guy who was cheating on his girlfriend. I don't have a romantic story about losing my virginity to my boyfriend, one that I could tell to my future daughter or make all my friends jealous with. I had to keep it a secret. That hurt almost as much."

She gave Bellamy a broken smile. "My first time wasn't a romantic love story. I want to make sure that my second time, with the second guy, is. Sorry but this doesn't feel like it."

Bellamy smiled back and reached out. When he touched her hand she felt a spark, an electric shock. "I get it."

They smiled at each other. "I think I better go," she whispered, almost shyly. She walked to the door, but she turned back to him. "If you want to be part of Octavia's life you should invite her to dinner once a week. That way you'll get to see her. And there's no way she'll refuse – it's a free meal."

"Thanks," he replied. She wondered whether he would say something else, but he just nodded at her. She picked her shoes off the floor and left the flat. She couldn't understand why she felt so bad when she hadn't done anything wrong?

* * *

It was a few nights later when Octavia came into her room. "Hey," she said, flopping onto Clarke's bed. "I'm thinking about going to the bar for a few drinks. You in?"

Clarke shook her head, lifting it from the books for the first time in an hour. "I've got to study. Maybe tomorrow."

Octavia nodded and this surprised her, because usually Octavia would pester her about it. "Look," the girl said finally, "I don't get it but Bellamy wanted me to give you this." She pulled out Clarke's journal from her bag.

Clarke must have been stressed, because she had completely forgotten about it when she had been at Bellamy's. "Thanks," she said, taking it. It was probably a good thing Octavia had given it to her. She didn't think that it would be a smart idea to return to Bellamy's flat.

Octavia was staring at her. "Look, it's none of my business, but if you want to date Bellamy it would be cool with me."

Clarke's head flew up. "What? Did he-?"

"Say anything?" Octavia smirked. "Not a word. But I know my brother pretty well. Plus neither of you have explained why he is giving you a book."

"I-" Clarke raised a hand to her face. "It's a long story."

Octavia nodded. "Fair enough. But let me know when you're ready to tell it." She gave Clarke a little smile and wave and walked out the room. She heard the front door bang and she was alone.

Now she felt comfortable enough to open her journal. The pages crackled and she saw the drawing of her father, grinning with little Clarke on his knee. She had done that in light pencil crayons, softening it like she remembered in her head. There was the picture of her first kiss with Finn. That had been done in bright colours, vivid with the passion that had been between them. And there was the moment she realised that Finn had betrayed her. At first her pictures had been strong, bold with the anger that she had felt. The next few after had been drawn with numb fingers, pictures of her loneliness and her pain, shaded in blue.

She flipped through the rest of the pictures until she got to the last page. She had thought that the last drawing was the one she had done in pen, jagged lines from the stress of being at college.

But there was a drawing on the next page.

The style was sharp and edgy in black pen. There were two figures on the page, a girl and the boy. The boy was wearing a shirt with a stain on the front, his hair curly on his head. But instead of looking flustered or angry he was smirking at the girl. The girl, she looked a mess. Her hair was all over the place, books were hanging out of her bag and her shirt was buttoned up wrong. Yet when Clarke peered closer, the girl's face was clear. Her eyes were big and wide like a puppy's. Yet her mouth was open and it was clear she was yelling at the smug boy.

There were words written on the top. Clarke had admired the picture first and now she turned to the words, written in block letters: _"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks"_ – _Samuel Johnson_.

She fingered the words for a moment, thinking over what he meant. Then she turned the page again because she could tell there was another drawing on the other side.

This time it was drawn more delicately, and though there were bits of colour it was minimal. This one showed a picture of a girl at her window, seemingly from a tower. In the background of the room where the girl was you could see a ton of books piled on the table. But the girl wasn't looking at them. She was staring out in the distance. In the distance you could see hills and roads, with the sun low on the horizon. There were words written in the sky again, this time softer and in lower case: _Tell me princess, when did you last let your heart decide?_

Clarke couldn't sleep that night, thinking about the pictures and words Bellamy had sent her. Her mind whirled round, and by the end of the week she had managed to convince herself that those drawings weren't the reason that she switched an art course. She also convinced herself that she would never see Bellamy again apart from a quick hello in the corridor when he came to see Octavia.

She had no idea what her years in college would have in store for her.

* * *

**AN2: So...did you love it? Hate it? Any bits that you adored? Anything you would have wanted to see? Let me know!**

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**Hours to make. Seconds to comment. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter Two

**AN: **Again, I don't know what I'm doing. I thought I was perfectly happy with this story being a one-shot. Turns out I got some inspiration and started writing again, and _poof_, a second chapter. So it is going to be a multi-chapter story. That being said, I have a few things to mention...

Firstly, I can't promise regular or even ANY updates. My life is busy right now and inspiration comes and back and forth like a magpie – something shiny appears and I latch on to that, forgetting everything else I was meant to do. I hope that you can understand that this story might take a long time to update, and I can't promise them.

Secondly, **do you want **_**The 100 **_**to get a third series? **If that's a yes (which I'm certain it is) there is a petition on for the president of CW to keep _The 100 _going. I hope you take time to sign it. It's really interesting to hear the reasons why people are signing. Just Google "Renew The 100 petition" or something like that and you should find it.

Thirdly, I would like to say a huge **THANK YOU** to everyone who has followed, favourited and reviewed my stories – not just this one but all my others too. I have been in awe about how many people have loved my stories and, honestly, words can't describe how happy it makes me. Only other writers can truly understand how I feel. So thank you so much, because those reviews really inspire me to keep writing.

Now all that's out the way, I hope you enjoy the second chapter.

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**DISCLAIMER:**** I do NOT own **_**The 100 **_**or any of the characters; I also do not own any of the quotes**

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**Unexpected Sparks**

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"_Your art matters. It's what got me here."_

Lucas Scott, _One Tree Hill_ 1x02, "The Places We Come to Fear the Most"

* * *

Not a lot of people knew it, but the city of Newbridge had a section that the people there called The Village. The buildings were old and while some people would say they had charm, others would say they were worn out. Most students didn't bother with this area at all. For one thing, all the shops in the area weren't trendy or popular. Even though the college campus was closer to this part of the city, most students took the bus or walked the 2.2 miles to the main shopping centre.

But not Clarke. She loved The Village. For one thing it had an old record store which, Clarke knew, her father would love. She browsed through for a good hour, even though she wouldn't be able to play them. The second hand book shop though, she could buy stuff from, and she spent another hour picking some out. But the best store was the art one. Clarke could spend forever looking through the cute little notebooks and felt pens and the expensive paints. She always came out the store with a bunch of art equipment, and the people who worked there now knew her by name.

She loved her course. She loved her modules, loved the new techniques the teacher showed her, the homework that she had to do. It was hard too. In some ways it was even harder than trying to become a doctor. Clarke found herself questioning how good she was at drawing, what techniques she used. Some nights she was convinced that she had made the wrong decision, that she was a fool. But her teachers were full of praise as well as criticism, and despite them warning her she would struggle to catch up, she was already ahead of half the students. She woke up looking forward to the day ahead, and even though she had some late nights, she didn't feel nearly as tired as she had been.

"Finally!" Clarke heard Octavia say when they came out the shop.

"What?" she asked, turning to her friend.

Octavia glanced back at her. "We've been in there for over an hour. Now I know that art is your passion etc etc," said the girl, extending her arm dramatically, "but after about fifteen minutes looking at different types of pens I tend to lose concentration."

"You didn't have to come," said Clarke, but she took Octavia's arm to show that she didn't mean it nastily.

"Actually I did," she said.

Clarke glanced at her out the corner of her eye. "Please tell me we aren't on some embarrassing mission to get you condoms or something."

Thankfully Octavia jerked her head back in what Clarke hoped was horror. "No!" she said. "If anything we would be going to get the pill – the guy takes care of the condom."

"Please don't believe that," said Clarke. "And please tell me that you know about safe sex."

"_Yes_ Mom." Octavia sighed dramatically, and she couldn't help but laugh. "And no, that's not why I needed to come." Arms linked Octavia pulled Clarke to the side, in front two large windows. Peering in Clarke could see a set of tables and chairs. "I think this is a great place for lunch," said Octavia brightly.

Still distrustful Clarke allowed Octavia to pull her into the cafe. Immediately she liked it. At first glance it would seem like a normal cafe, with wooden tables and tall chairs, with plants in the corner. But behind the counter there was a picture of a map, and when you looked closely you could see the names of famous rock stars. There were pictures of bands on the walls, but they weren't what caught Clarke's eye. Instead there were quotes all over the walls. Clarke tried to read them all as she walked up to the counter, but Octavia was nudging her and she gave up.

She glanced up at the person at the other side of the bar. "Can I see – oh!" Clarke forced herself not to take a step back. Standing on the other side was none other than Bellamy. "Hi."

It made her feel better that he looked surprised too. "Hey," he said, placing his hands flat on the wood.

Thankfully Octavia took over. "Hey big brother," she said. She leant over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Can you get me a cup of coffee and I think Clarke will need to see a menu?" she said, glancing at her flatmate as she said it.

"Sure," he said. He reached over and slapped two menus in front of them. "Do you want a drink?"

"Er, a coffee," she said faintly.

"Is it okay that I bought Clarke for lunch?" asked Octavia. Clarke wasn't sure if it was her imagination but Octavia seemed like she was batting her eyelashes at her brother. "I felt kinda bad for abandoning her. Aside from me she has no friends." Octavia added this last part in a whisper.

Clarke shoved Octavia and Bellamy let out a small chuckle. "Yeah it's fine," he said. "You guys pick a table and I'll just let them know I'm taking my break." He nodded at them before heading towards the back.

"I have no social life, huh?" Clarke hissed as she and Octavia made their way to a table.

"Well it's true," she said. Avoiding Clarke's eye she peered at the menu. "You ready to tell me that long story yet?"

"Not yet," muttered Clarke. She was now suddenly fascinated by the sandwich section of the menu.

A few minutes later Bellamy joined them, slipping in a chair beside Octavia. Clarke thanked him with a smile when he gave her the coffee. "Is Jasper round back?" asked Octavia. When Bellamy told her he was she said, "I'll just go say hi." Two pairs of eyes stared at her. She beamed back at them both. "I'll just be two minutes."

The two of them sat in awkward silence as Octavia walked away. Unable to take it Clarke said, "So...how are you?"

"Fine," Bellamy answered quickly. "You?"

"I'm good." The quiet settled back over them. Clarke couldn't understand it. Her stomach was twisting and her legs itched to get up. Why was she so nervous? Okay, so she and Bellamy had almost slept together... Okay, maybe that was why she was nervous.

"Look," Bellamy said, lowering the menu which he must know off by heart. "You're my sister's friend and I don't want things to be awkward between us. So can we just pretend that we didn't make out on my bed?"

The tension broke between them like a wave. "I'd love that," she said, relaxing in her chair. She allowed herself the first real smile she had since she walked in here. "So it's a pretty cool place. You work here?"

"Yeah, I mean, I have the experience. The owner's pretty good about my hours."

She sipped her drink. "So I didn't ask you, between you yelling at me in the morning and kissing me in the evening, what you actually study?"

"History."

"Really?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Why so surprised? I mean, I know you think I'm cute enough to do a modelling degree," he teased.

She leant back in her chair. "That was meant to be an insult."

"If you say so." He was relaxed, placing his elbows on the table. "I know it's not exactly the smart choice – I could have done business or economics – but I've always loved history. It was the one subject I never struggled with. And I think I would have regretted it if I hadn't." He gave a little shrug. "I suppose it's not as good as becoming a doctor."

She realised that she had dodged him so much that she hadn't told him that she had changed degrees. "Actually," she said, ducking her head.

Bellamy sat up straighter. There was something about the way his eyes lit up that made him look different (she didn't want to say "beautiful"). "You've switched courses?"

She smiled shyly. "Well since someone stole my journal-"

"You _shoved_ it at me-"

"-and vandalised it by telling me to follow my heart, I thought I should give it a try." She leant forward. "Y'know you're not so bad at art yourself."

He shrugged modestly. "It's not the artwork so much as the comic. I know it's kinda childish, but I love comic books. And the writing is pretty kickass."

Clarke smiled and looked back behind the counter. "So can I ask you something?"

"Why does that question scare me?"

"Shut up." Bellamy smiled but lowered his head, indicating that she could speak. "You don't like Octavia hanging around with guys, but you're fine with her spending time with Jasper. I mean he's been over at our flat about fifty times and one time he and Octavia even fell asleep together-" She shut her mouth quick. "Shit. I shouldn't have told you that."

To her surprise Bellamy laughed. "Relax princess. It's fine. Jasper's a friend of the family – when Octavia was little he was the one playing with Lego next to her. He's a good guy."

"And?"

"And?" he repeated.

"There's something else," Clarke said.

Bellamy glanced away and Clarke knew that she was right. He leaned in closed to her and for a second she was back in his flat looking at his lips. "Jasper's had a thing for Octavia ever since he was twelve. I think she's the reason he came to this college in the first place."

"And...you're okay with that?"

"Yeah." He lifted a shoulder. "Jasper is better for her than anyone else. For one thing, when my sister was thirteen she had braces and glasses and Jasper has never looked to anyone else. He would take a bullet for her. What else could a big brother ask for?"

Clarke felt a smile grow on her face. For some reason this story pricked at her heart. "Octavia's lucky."

His eyes flashed when he looked at her and he returned her smile. "Thanks." They made eye-contact before glancing back at their menus.

A moment later Octavia slid back into her seat. "God don't have too much fun without me," she muttered at the silence. Clarke opened her mouth in protest and looked at Bellamy, who simply shook his head as if to say _there's no telling her._

* * *

From that day Clarke began to spend her free time in the cafe (which was named The Bridge, after the large bridge that led you out of town into the forest. People would joke about it, saying there were monsters in the forest – but that was mostly just to scare the little kids from going to explore). She told herself it was because the art supply shop was on the same street, and because it was five minutes from her dorm, and because Bellamy often gave her free food, and because the strawberry milkshakes were _really _good. She would go in, grab a seat and draw.

It was a good place to hang out. For one thing she avoided all the other students as most of them went into the city to hang out. And if she ever got bored Octavia usually popped in from time to time to see her brother and Jasper was always there to say hello and have five minutes. And there was Bellamy...

But sometimes Clarke enjoyed the solitude. She actually found it fun watching people and making up fake histories for them: for example, the woman who came in wearing a brown fur scarf had stolen it from an old lover; the man who habitually sat by the window seat with his laptop was working on a screenplay that would star Rachel Bilson; the student who bought a black cup of coffee had just moved in with his girlfriend and was struggling to adjust. She never told anyone her imaginings; when Bellamy asked what she was smiling about she would always make an excuse.

By the second month Bellamy would bring her a milkshake or a cup of coffee without her having to ask. When she asked him how he knew when she wanted a coffee or a milkshake he laughed. "When you work in a cafe you get to know people. You have a certain face that says you need a cup of coffee."

She had gotten closer to Bellamy in the past two months. He was actually okay company when he wasn't yelling at her. In fact when he was done with his shift and didn't have any classes he would sit beside her and do his own studying. They would push two tables together which would be covered in books and crumpled bits of paper. They became so comfortable that they didn't need to talk all the time. He would even let her stay after closing time as he cleared up.

That was when Clarke met the owner of The Bridge. She was clearing away her books into her bag while Bellamy was in the back. She was working out what she would do when she got back: whether to take a slice of chocolate cake back or cook something healthy (the chocolate cake was definitely winning) when she heard Bellamy talking. She would have assumed he had been on the phone but she heard another voice, sweet and high, talk back.

She stood up and walked into the back, a little hesitantly. She wasn't sure whether Bellamy would be annoyed, but he allowed her to stay behind after – surely that meant something. Before she got to the store cupboard behind she wondered, briefly, whether he had another girl in there. The thought sent a twist in her stomach. "Bellamy?" she called lowly, already regretting her decision to speak.

A face popped out of the store cupboard. But it was not the face of Bellamy Blake; instead a little girl with long dark hair in a pink dress smiled at her. "Who are you?"

Clarke was so taken aback that she couldn't even think to answer. It was Bellamy that came round the corner, carrying a box of coke cans. "That's Clarke Lil. Clarke, this is Lillie."

"Spelt L-I-L-L-I-E," said Lillie proudly. "Not L-I-L-L-Y. Not many people know how to spell my name. Even the teachers get it wrong." She said the last part in a whisper, as if it was an offence to talk about her teachers that way. She jumped up towards Clarke, beaming. "You're pretty. You look like Rapunzel."

"Thank you," said Clarke. As Lillie dove back behind into the building and up the stairs, she looked to Bellamy. "That's a compliment, right?"

He let out a laugh as he put the cans into the little fridge. "Trust me, coming from Lillie that's a huge compliment. Her all time favourite film is _Tangled_. She likes _Frozen_ too, but she still loves _Tangled _more. She's always comparing people to the film."

Clarke leaned back against the bar. "Who are you from the film? The Wicked Stepmother?" she teased.

Another voice from the back answered. "That's usually me. Unless I let her have ice cream for dinner, which is when I'm the queen." Startled Clarke turned her head to see a woman come through to the front. Instantly she knew this was Lille's mother: not just because of what she said, but because she had the same dark hair and dark eyes that Lillie held.

Clarke felt a prick of worry that she shouldn't have been at the bar, but the woman's smile reassured her. "I'm Carolyn Gilmore," she said, holding out her hand. "You're a friend of Bellamy's?"

"Yeah," answered Bellamy, saving Clarke from the quick are-we-friends-or-aren't-we thought. "This is Clarke Griffin. She's an art student."

Carolyn's eyes lit up. "That was going to be my major too. Well, it will be eventually. I'm on the slow track." She smiled down fondly at Lillie who burst forward, wearing a pink jacket. That was when Clarke noticed how _young_ Carolyn was. She could only been five years older than she, eighteen year old Clarke was, at the most.

"Mom, we have to go," complained Lillie. She grabbed her hand, tugging it forward. "We're going to be late."

"We're not going to be late, _amore mio_*," she said, bending down to do up Lillie's coat.

"The film starts at seven three oh," began Lillie, her voice getting higher, "and it already says seven two five on my watch, which means that we only have five minutes to get there, go to the toilet and get snacks."

"Lil, the adverts will be on first-"

"We have to get there on time!" Lille's voice now held the determination of a child.

"Okay, okay," muttered Carolyn. As they moved from behind the bar, passing Bellamy, she said, "You were right, it was too early to teach her how to tell time." In a louder voice she said, "You'll close up?"

"Yep," said Bellamy, raising his hand. "Have fun."

"And don't forget that the new waitress starts on Saturday, so you might have to stay a little late to show her the ropes." She focussed on Clarke. "It was nice meeting you Clarke. Say goodbye, Lillie."

"Bye bye!" called Lillie, raising her hand. The door slammed shut.

"She's nice," said Clarke immediately.

"Yeah, she is. She's really good with hours; she knows what's it's like to have to support a kid." When Clarke glanced at him in bemusement he laughed. "Octavia," he reminded her. He turned away, continuing to tidy up. "How's she doing anyway?"

"Fine." Clarke was always very careful about what she told Bellamy about his sister. She knew that he meant well, but she also knew that his protectiveness bugged the hell out of Octavia. She was also quite certain that Octavia didn't tell him about how many times she went out in the evening, or that she was now officially going out with Lincoln. Clarke had spoken to him more and he did seem a decent person: he was working a job in the city to support himself while doing a degree in engineering and mechanics. She actually thought that, of all the guys Octavia could have gone out of, Lincoln was the best choice.

Besides, Clarke knew that Bellamy wouldn't see Lincoln as a guy with decent job prospects; he would see him as a final year student and wonder what the hell he wanted with his little sister. Clarke could already see the explosion between the two Blakes, and she was determined to avoid it at all costs. Bellamy and Octavia were both extremely stubborn and usually their own worst enemy. But she believed Bellamy when he said that he didn't want to lose Octavia; and she also knew that Octavia enjoyed spending time with him and looked forward to their dinners. They loved each other; sometimes they just didn't express it all that well.

"You've seen her, haven't you?"

"Yeah. She says she's fine." Bellamy turned round this time, fully facing Clarke. "You would tell me if she wasn't though, right?"

Clarke frowned. She pushed herself up on the bar, swinging her legs back and forth. "Why do you say that?"

He sighed. "Octavia has a habit of keeping stuff from me. I get it," he said, lifting his hand up when Clarke opened her mouth. "I can be a bit of a pain at times. But I don't want her to get into trouble and not tell me about it."

"She's fine. Her course is going well and she just finished her first assignment." Bellamy nodded, and she could tell by his face that she wasn't telling him things that he didn't already know. "How about this?" she asked. "If I think that Octavia is in trouble then I'll tell you – but only if I think she needs your help. Like I said," she said, hitting him gently with her foot, "I'm not your spy."

He smiled at her. "Fair enough," he said. "Now get off the bar; I haven't wiped down yet and you'll get yourself dirty." Before she could step down he moved forward, grabbing her at the waist and lifting her to the floor. For a moment Clarke felt a rush of heat over her body, particularly because he put her down very close to him. But he stepped back and she moved away, and she reasoned with herself that he would have done that with Lillie so often that it was a natural response.

Despite Clarke's reassurances over Octavia, things almost reached boiling point a few nights later. Again, Clarke had stayed late at the cafe with Bellamy, but she hadn't been working all that much. Lillie had been back from school and Clarke had been playing cards with her. She had intended to let the little girl win, but there was no "let" about it: Lillie easily beat her at Go Fish. She could see Bellamy smirking at them as he walked by, and when she passed him to go to the bathroom he said, "Don't bet money when you play with her. I lost twenty bucks to the little minx."

She had helped Bellamy close up ("Just so you know, _helping _is not sitting on the counter drinking a can of coke and eating chocolate cake") and then headed back to the direction of their flats. They lived vaguely in the same area, though it took Bellamy an extra ten minutes to get back to his place. They were talking about the course that Bellamy was studying when he froze, so quickly that Clarke collided with him. "What's up?" she asked. She followed Bellamy's gaze to see his worst nightmare: Octavia kissing Lincoln.

Clarke only had time to thank God that they were just kissing: there was no hand on her breast or groping her ass, though it was clear even from here that there was plenty of tongue.

Bellamy surged forward, but Clarke managed to grab hold of his bag and pull him back. "Bellamy-"

"Let me go Clarke," he growled. Clarke was amazed that she managed to keep hold of him.

"Yes, let's go," she agreed, dragging Bellamy in the opposite direction. It wasn't easy: Bellamy was a strong guy, and he wasn't really fighting the urge to go protect his sister. The best thing Clarke could do was get Bellamy away from the sight of his Octavia kissing a guy. She yanked Bellamy through the doors of a bar, and it was only when they got to the front did she let go of him. He was still staring at the doors, a furious expression on his face. "Sit down Bellamy."

"Octavia is out there with some guy-" Bellamy said through gritted teeth.

"Sit _down_ Bellamy," repeated Clarke, "and I'll tell you about Octavia's boyfriend."

It seemed that Bellamy swelled, like a bomb about to go off. "Her _boyfriend?_"

"Bellamy, sit down and I'll tell you everything, okay?" She glanced across the bar. "Where is that bartender?"

He threw himself into the chair. "Okay, talk."

"Take off your jacket," said Clarke.

"Clarke, you-"

"I need to know that you're not going to run back out there."

"And you're going to hold my jacket hostage to prove this?" Nonetheless he stripped off his jacket, dropping his bag on the floor beside him. "That guy's Octavia's boyfriend?" he demanded.

She sighed, winging a silent apology to Octavia (though if she hadn't been making out with him a mere block from the cafe, she would be at her dorm right now). "Yes," she admitted.

Bellamy jerked his head away, banging his hand on the bar. "Bellamy-"

"You should have told me."

Clarke frowned, feeling the beginning of irritation. "Why?"

"Because she's my _sister_," he says. "I need to protect-"

"For God's sake Bellamy! Octavia is one of the toughest girl's at college. She can handle herself. And I've meant Lincoln, okay? He's a good guy. He's doing engineering and he's already got a job lined up for when he finished college-"

"For when he finishes?" Bellamy's eyes honed back in on Clarke. "How old is he?"

Clarke felt herself go perfectly still. _Oh shit. _

"_Clarke_," he says, stronger this time.

Clarke screwed her face up. "He's in his final year," she admitted.

Bellamy's mouth fell open. "He's-" He stood up out of his seat. "No way in hell-"

"Bellamy, they've probably already left!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, though when she saw the realisation dawn on Bellamy's face she realised that probably wasn't the best thing to have said. "Look, as I said before, he's a decent guy. If I was worried about him I would tell you – or kick him to the curb myself. Octavia's in college Bellamy. If this is a mistake then it's hers to make. The worst that will happen is that she gets a broken heart, and at least then you don't have to be worried about her going out with guys because it'll take her a long time to get over it."

"That's my best bet?" Bellamy said sceptically. "Let her get her heart broken?"

"She might not. For all we know Lincoln may be the one for her."

"His name's Lincoln?" he asked, pulling a face.

She gave him a look. "That's the part you're sticking on?"

"What can I get you?" The bartender appeared in front of them.

"A beer and..." Bellamy looked over at her.

"A coke," said Clarke.

He raised an eyebrow. "A beer, a coke and two shots of whisky," he said, looking back at bartender.

"ID?"

Bellamy pulled out his ID. He glanced at Clarke. "Hers too."

Clarke glanced back at Bellamy. The only place she was technically allowed to drink was the bar at college. You could get drunk there and go to clubs, because most girls could usually get a bartender to give her alcohol without asking for ID. But this bar, despite the cowboyish theme it held, was unlikely to do so.

Bellamy looked the bartender right in the face. "I'm the one buying the drinks," he said. "You don't need to see hers."

After a long pause he poured the drinks. He pushed them towards Clarke and Bellamy, the latter slipping the guy the money. He pushed the coke and a small shot of whisky to her. Raising his own he said, "Cheers."

He seemed to have calmed down, and with relief Clarke said, "Cheers," back, and tossed the whisky down her throat. She almost spat it back out though, and only the desire not to embarrass herself held her back. "That's vile," she said, pulling a face.

Bellamy had knocked his back with ease, and was now smiling at her. "Not a whisky fan?"

"Not an alcohol fan," she corrected.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, who knew Clarke Griffin is against alcohol? The last time I saw you at a bar you were buzzed."

She tried to think of what to say since the last time she had drank alcohol they had almost had sex. Thankfully she was interrupted by another bartender – a female one this time. "Griffin?" she asked. "As in Jake Griffin?"

She was about to say yes when she quickly changed her mind. "No," she said. She took a sip of her coke, suddenly wishing for more whisky. "I don't know him."

The girl looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry," she said. "Must be a common name." It wasn't a common name, and both she and Clarke knew it, but she walked further down the bar without another word.

She could feel Bellamy watching her and she was about to say make some dismissive comment when a man approached. "Bellamy," he said.

Bellamy's face lit up. "Hey Darren," he said, and the two of them slapped each other's hands in a "cool" handshake, one that Finn always said was lame. From here it didn't look lame. From here it looked like there was genuine affection between the two of them.

Bellamy looked at her. "Clarke, this is the comic book owner Darren." He nodded to her and she could feel his eyes moving down her body. It didn't feel creepy but Clarke wondered why he was taking an interest. She had to admit, since switching to an art course she had been getting more sleep – and actually sleeping _through _the night. And she wasn't rushing to get her work done so she had more time to work on her appearance. Still, she was wearing a pair of old jeans and a plain white shirt – it wasn't as if she had particularly tried.

"Nice to meet you Clarke," he said. "You a comic book fan too?"

"Not really. But I can appreciate the art." She didn't really mean it, but it seemed like the right thing to say. By the smirk on Bellamy's face she could tell he wasn't buying it.

"I would stay and have a drink," Darren said, turning back to Bellamy, "but I'm meeting a girl. I'm glad I caught you though. I wanted to tell you the competition deadline is in three days time, so you need to bring it in by the 3rd."

"Well since I'm not entering the competition, it won't be a problem." Bellamy patted him on the shoulder in what Clarke thought was a gesture of dismissal.

"What competition?" she asked. The words slipped out of her mouth.

"Nothing."

Darren rolled his eyes at Bellamy and looked back at Clarke. "There's a position in the _Newbridge Chronicle _for a comic strip artist. It's not really a big position and the money's shit, but it's a good way of getting your work out there. They asked us to advertise it and I suggested to Bellamy that he go for it."

She looked back at Bellamy. "You should _definitely_ go for it. Your work's good."

"That's what I said-"

"I'm _not_ entering," Bellamy interrupted loudly.

"-but of course he refuses to believe anything he does it good." Darren rolled his eyes and Clarke smiled. He clearly knew Bellamy well. "Perhaps you could convince him."

It was Clarke's turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah right," she scoffed. "Because Bellamy always does what people tell him to do."

"I'm right here y'know," he said irritably.

Darren smirked. "It was worth a try. I hope you change your mind," he said to Bellamy before looking back at Clarke. "Nice to meet you Clarke."

As soon as Darren had left she leant forward. "So what's this about the competition?"

Bellamy groaned, leaning back in the barstool. "It's nothing, okay?"

"It isn't nothing. Darren thinks you could win it – that's got to mean something."

"You don't even know Darren!"

"Well he owns a comic book store. He must know his stuff." She took another sip of her drink. "And if it matters, _I _think you could win it." She stared at him. "What happened to that guy that told me _life's too short_?"

Bellamy winced and Clarke knew she had scored a point. "I don't have time for it. I would have to draw up an entire comic strip"-

"Like hell. I bet you already have some back in your apartment."

"What's the point?" he said. "You want to be an artist – I don't know what I want to be, but being a comic book artist isn't one of them. Besides, what's the point? My art doesn't matter."

Clarke stared at Bellamy for a moment. "You're wrong," she said, but it was so quiet that she didn't think Bellamy heard her. He finished his drink and nodded to the bartender who began to approach. "Do you want another?"

She did. It made her realise that, for the first time since she came to college, she felt like a college student. No, she felt like a _teenager_. She had been working so hard to get into college that she hadn't really done anything fun in... Well, since Finn.

She had learnt her lesson.

This was different though. She knew this was different, because it wasn't Finn; it was Bellamy. Maybe he was a guy, and maybe he had a string of girlfriends a mile long, but he also knew one of her biggest secrets. Not the biggest secret she had, but definitely an important one. One that she hadn't shared with anyone, not even her mother.

She trusted him, she realised. Trusted him enough to let her guard down.

Her smile felt wide, lifting her up. "Why not?" she said. Bellamy was looking at her a little longer than normal, and she said, "Shall we get some fries too?"

By the time she got back to her dorm, it was half eleven and she was feeling tipsy. Not that she had drunk anymore alcohol; no, it was like she was flying on a natural high. Bellamy was good company, and she had laughed more in one night than a she had in certain weeks. She hadn't even noticed the walk home, smiling over some of the things that Bellamy had said.

To her surprise Octavia was already home. She was sitting in the living room, watching some reality show on television while doing her nails. "There you are," said Octavia. "I was beginning to set up a search party."

"Yeah, you look real busy," joked Clarke, falling into the seat next to her.

"Where've you been?" Octavia sat up, carefully making sure she didn't catch her nails. "Don't tell me you actually met up with your old friend Fun?"

She couldn't stop the smile on her face. "Y'know what, we hooked up."

Octavia focussed on Clarke. "Really?" The girl had a smirk on her face, reminding Clarke of Bellamy. "So what did you and you're friend Fun get up too?"

"I went to a bar tonight – and had alcohol."

"Not the college bar?" When Clarke nodded she said, "Spill – how did you do it?"

"Your brother."

"My brother?" Octavia pulled a face, and leaned away. "That may work for you. I think he'd probably go crazy or give me lecture about drinking and drugs if I asked him to buy me a drink."

"I'd love to see that," said Clarke. "Particularly since I pulled him away from bashing Lincoln's head in."

Her head snapped round so fast that Clarke was certain she heard a click. "He – _what?_"

"Saw you and Lincoln making out." She reached up and undid the hair she had tied back, the bits in front that always seemed to get in her eyes. "Don't worry, I pulled him away. I had to tell him though."

"You told him about Lincoln?" When Clarke nodded she groaned, sliding down to the floor. "I'm dead."

"I think he's okay-"

"He'll be going on about the importance of waiting and how all guys are jerks," she corrected Clarke. "Trust me, he's going to be a nightmare while pretending he's totally cool about it."

"Well at least I stopped him from punching the lights out of Lincoln," said Clarke. She sat forward slightly. "So you owe me, right?"

Octavia narrowed her eyes. "I guess," she replied slowly.

Clarke allowed a smile to creep over her face. "I need your help with something."

* * *

On the next gloriously sunny Saturday Octavia, Clarke and Bellamy were all in the cafe. Octavia kept glancing between Bellamy and Clarke, but they were nothing but civil with each other. Sure, they both wore smiles on their faces when they spoke to each other (which neither of them seemed to notice), but there were no lingering gazing as far as she could see.

If anything, her brother was focusing completely on her. "Y'know, people don't talk about how important it is to wait," he was saying as he poured her some more coffee.

She rolled her eye at Clarke, who hid a smirk in her sketchbook. "I get it Bell," she said through gritted teeth. "And if you dare go on about the high rates of pregnancy in teenagers again I will beat you to death with the coffee pot."

"It's the truth!" Bellamy said while Clarke snorted with laughter.

"Seriously, there should be a TV series about you two," she said under the glares of the Blake siblings.

"By the way," said Octavia, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Bellamy paused before he went in the backroom. "What?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "I can't remember."

"Was it important?"

"Yeah."

Bellamy made an impatient gesture. "Thanks for that O."

"No problem," she said, grinning at him. Clarke laughed again.

The bell from the door rang and a guy practically ran into the cafe. "I can't believe you actually listened to me!" he yelled, making a little woman opposite the bar jump.

Bellamy frowned. "What are you on about?"

"The comic strip! I just heard back from them and you won!" He beamed, extending a hand. "C'mon man, don't leave me hanging."

Her brother was still staring at him. "I didn't enter the competition Darren."

"What are _you_ talking about man? Your name was on it. Besides, I would recognise your work anywhere."

"But I didn't-" Bellamy sucked in his breath, his head swivelling in Octavia's direction. But it wasn't her his eyes were seeking. "_Clarke_-"

But Clarke was gone, her blonde hair flashing out of sight as the cafe door swung closed. Really, you had to admire her speed. Bellamy's mouth moved wordlessly after her, and Octavia tried to remember the last time she had seen her brother speechless.

Managing to maintain a straight face, she said, "Oh Bell, now I remember what I wanted to tell you: I let Clarke into your apartment." She flashed him a smile, the one she reserved specially for when she got one over at him.

Bellamy stared at her. "I-" His face changed, eyebrows furrowing and mouth flattening. He turned away, Octavia hearing a stream of curse words muttered under his breath. He left Darren standing there in bemusement while Octavia ducked her head over her textbook, smiling. _Oh yeah, this is going to interesting._

* * *

It was just after closing time when Clarke returned to the cafe. Bellamy had just shooed the last customers out, and he sent her a death glare. "Nice to see you too," she said, sliding into a stool.

"What do you expect Clarke?" He put down the can he had been holding, focussing his full attention on her. "You broke into my apartment-"

"I used the key Bellamy. And it was Octavia that broke in; I was just with her."

"-and you invaded my _privacy_."

"Stop." Clarke lifted her hand up at him. She knew she would be wearing her best "listen-to-me" face, the one she always had on when she took charge (because let's face it, someone had to). "I am not going to let you make me feel bad about this. I got you another job and a chance to showcase your artwork. If anything you should be thanking me."

"I told you I didn't want to-"

"No, you came up with a bunch of stupid excuses. You'll be getting money Bellamy! It might make things a little easier-"

"You should have asked me."

"Perhaps," she conceded, which caused Bellamy to roll his eyes and move away. "Bellamy wait! Just...listen to me." She must have sounded desperate because he stopped and, after a moment that felt like an eternity, turned back to her. He face was set in a scowl, but he was listening.

Now for the hard part. She swallowed. "You said that your art didn't matter. I wanted to show you it _does _matter. And you can say it wasn't my place, but you're wrong. You art _matters_ Bellamy. If you hadn't drawn in my journal, _even though you shouldn't have_," she emphasised, "I would never have taken my art course and I would never have started enjoying my life." He was staring at her still, but his face was beginning to change. She took that as a good sign. "Your art matters Bellamy. It's what got me here, to this point. So I figured...I owed you."

They stared at each other.

The sound of footsteps caused them to break the connection. Clarke lifted a hand to her face. "Clarke, this is our new employee." She didn't immediately lift her head so she couldn't see Bellamy's face, but his voice was soft. She knew he had forgiven her.

She lifted her head as Bellamy said, "This is Raven Reyes."

Clarke didn't look at Bellamy. No, her eyes flew straight to Raven. The girl was staring right back at her, her expression unreadable, though perhaps there was some shock there. But Clarke knew that she couldn't feel worse than what she felt.

She was looking at Finn's girlfriend, the person who had absolutely every right to hate her.

* * *

* - As far as I can tell, that's Italian for _my love_.

**A/N: **So, were you guys surprised at the ending?

* * *

**Hours to make. Seconds to comment. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


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